The Queen of France: A Fifth Musketeer
by Comte de la Fere
Summary: A young woman, who happens to be the Queen of France, wants to become a better person by learning from the four legendary heroes. She is also, as it happens, in love with one of them. This is based mostly on 10 Years Later, as written by Dumas/Maquet. Influences from various movies (1993, 2011, the Russian 1978 and on) may have seeped in.
1. Chapter 1

"You want me to do what?" Maria Theresa, Spanish Infanta aged 22, stared at her father blankly. Other emotions would come, but, for the moment, shock replaced all of them.

She really should feel indignant that her father did not bother to even consult her when choosing her husband. She should feel panicked at the prospect of being the Queen of a country like France. She should feel sad at the death of all of her hopes and dreams of marrying for love. She should, she supposed, feel at least somewhat resigned, too. She was 22, after all, and thus lucky to be yet unwed. And she was a princess, so being informed that she will soon have to run a country despite having absolutely no qualifications for the job … should be perfectly normal.

"Will you not thank me, Maria? You are to be Queen, revered and loved by all. Is this unseemly blinking truly all you have for me?"

Maria never had been very good at etiquette. Especially when her entire life had just been changed. She worked very hard not to grimace. "Forgive my silence, your Majesty. I am most grateful for your kindness in wedding me..." _to some idiot i've never even met... _"to the great King of France. I will yet make Spain proud of me. When do I sail for France?" She hoped desperately that sound excited and not panicky.

"Tomorrow."

_**Reviews would be very very very welcome :D I'm very new to all of this, so any comments would be much appreciated. More soon :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Three Musketeers or anything else by Dumas/Maquet.**

**Anything I got historically wrong is either because I have not done enough research or because Maria being _weird_****is affecting the way the world works. **

**Please read and review :) :)**

The next morning found a slightly more resigned Maria sitting at the prow of the ship. She had told the captain and her ladies-in-waiting in the most regal tone she could manage that she wished to "admire the waves" and "required no company." After all, that sounded better than "I need to mope. Go away." It also beat "I need to scheme without any spies or idiots around me." Both would have been closer to the truth, but truth and royalty didn't go together all that well anyways. She grimaced at that last thought, before turning back to her immediate problems.

She has no idea how to be Queen of France. She was woefully, drastically, ridiculously under-qualified to be a Queen, let alone a Queen of a country she knew so little about. The job of a Queen, as far as Maria could make out, entailed helping the people of her country in any way possible, being a sort of mother to them. A Queen should also stop her husband from doing anything too stupid. At least mother Annette, her teacher and friend, said all married women bore this responsibility, and Maria assumed Queens did, as well.

Annette... Maria felt the first pangs of homesickness. She was actually starting to cry, but she wiped away the tears fiercely.

"If you ever think you have it bad, think about what it's like for us." She could almost hear mother Annette's scolding yet amused voice. That's what Annette said every time Maria complained.

Maria grinned suddenly. Okay, fine, maybe she was a tiny bit better prepared for her new job than she had thought. She cast her mind back to when Father had first told her she might have to rule Spain one day. She closed her eyes, and smiled slightly, remembering.

* * *

She was eight, her older brother had just died, and his majesty King Philip told her very pompously that she might one day rule in his stead. The he dropped the majestic air, adopted the frustrated one with which he usually looked at his daughter, and said, "Hopefully, I'll manage to have another child, though, and this country will be spared your rule."

Her father's angry looks terrified her, and she was already sad about her bigger brother disappearing like that. "Dying" the adults called it. Crying and trying to act proper at the same time consumed a lot of attention, so the obvious question didn't occur to her until she was getting ready for bed. Thankfully, the King always came to bid her good night. He was late this time though, and she was actually bouncing up and down in her bed in her impatience when he finally arrived. She blurted her thought our as soon as he made it through the door, "Why do you think I would be such a bad Queen?"

"Because you can't even handle being a proper princess, you excitable little monkey." He practically growled, and Maria stopped bouncing abruptly. Philip left after a very curt good night, shaking his head.

Maria did not sleep well that night. Instead, she laid in her bed, thinking furiously. Father had said she would be a bad Queen because she was a bad Princess. She knew full well why he thought (and everyone else thought, admittedly) that she was no good at being a Princess. She could the King's voice, the voices of her ladies in waiting, and even her late brother's voice shouting at her: "Stop acting so excited!" "Don't smile that widely! You're supposed to look proud, not stupid!" "Why were you even talking to kitchen maids? You're supposed to ignore them. They're below you. When will you learn?" "Are you really crying? When will you learn to control yourself?"

So she was a bad princess because she got excited and sad easily and because she talked to everyone in the castle. To be a good princess, Maria had to be proud and quiet. But why did that mean she would be a bad Queen? Her mother hadn't been quiet at all! In fact, Her Majesty spoke all the time. Mother got angry too, which was similar to excited, right? So being a Queen wasn't like being a princess. What was it like? Queens... well... ruled the country? And everyone always told Maria that if she wanted to be a good princess, she needed to practice being quiet and proud. So. If Maria wanted to be a good Queen, she had to practice. She didn't really want to be a good princess. That sounded boring. But ruling a country well seemed important. Maria smiled. She had a Plan.

The next day, Maria fidgeted all day, waiting for the luncheon. If she was to get what she wanted, she had to ask His Majesty in front of the whole court, where Father had to act nice. She'd only done that once before, when she asked for her Nanny not to be executed, and she still remembered the punishment. But she was able to save Nanny. And her current Plan was very much worth not getting any food for a couple of days. Not that she was looking forward to having disgusting amounts of pepper on all of her food... or to coughing like crazy if she tried a mouthful and having everyone reprimand her... . The look on her father's face when she asked her question though will be something to remember. She grinned widely, and was immediately scolded roundly by one of her ladies.

Finally, lunch arrived. Maria spent the first two courses going over her carefully planned speech and reasons. She seized her chance after the second course was taken away and Father had had two glasses of wine (wine and food always seemed to put him in a slightly less angry mood). She screwed up her courage, stood up on her chair, ignored her Nanny's desperate hiss of "get down", and spoke as loud as she could.

"Your Majesty, can I have a village?" Those were really not the words she had planned at all. And her voice sounded too squeaky. But heads did turn all over the room. Including His Majesty's.

"What do you mean, your highness?" The King's voice was indulgent. Maria knew he wanted people to think he was a kind father.

"Well... Your Majesty had said that village near us was no without any ruler, after you executed... um..." _oh, what was his name_ "... the previous one. If I am to be Queen someday, should I not first rule something smaller, Your Majesty?" _Why is everyone laughing?_ "Would that village not make fine practice?"

Father just stood there. The assembled courtiers laughed. Father fought to replace his scowling demeanor with a paternal smile. Someone in the court said loudly to a friend, "It would at least get Her Highness out of the castle..." The friend replied, "Yes, maybe she should learn some etiquette away from the high court. And some patience too." They both laughed. Maria blushed, but she also noticed that Father overheard that terrible conversation. Some thoughtfulness crept into his expression.

Suddenly, an elderly man stepped forward. Maria did not know his name, but he was one of the few nobles who always had a smile for what everyone else called Maria's antics. His voice was respectful. His face somber. But Maria could have sworn he winked at her before addressing the King. "Your Majesty, may I speak?"

Father nodded, glad, Maria thought, for some extra time to think.

The nice courtier bowed and continued, "Your Majesty, her Highness speaks with a wisdom beyond her years." The King snorted, but the older man continued, undeterred. "I know this village. The inhabitants are loyal and happy. They would not tax the Princess overmuch. And she will indeed grow wiser all the more quickly, in the austerity of the village's manor, so unlike this castle. She will have a real responsibility, even if it be an easy one, and she will not be pampered, as she is here."

Listening to the end of this speech, Maria fought with growing indignation. The man was making her ideas sound like some kind of punishment! Then again, maybe that would make His Majesty more amenable to her plan... She really should play along. Maria looked down at the ground, trying to pretend the man's speech terrified her. Carefully, she peeked at the King.

Father looked very thoughtful now. "There is wisdom in your words, as well. Perhaps this experience will prove a useful lesson for my dear daughter. Your ladies in waiting will help you pack."

Maria tried really, really, really hard to keep from grinning. She failed miserably, but she did at least manage to cover her mouth before Father saw.

At any rate, he didn't seem to notice, and continued. "As you will be acting the part of a noble, not a princess, however, the ladies will not accompany you. Your Nanny will accompany you and whatever servants still remain in the manor there will be at your disposal." His Majesty smiled briefly. He knew that to all the nobles assembled it would sound as if he was exiling his daughter, yet they could accuse him of nothing. The little idiot had asked for it. He tried to smile kindly, "Are you happy, my child?"

That was too much for Maria. She dropped her hands, squealed, and ran to give her father a hug. It felt like hugging a statue. The room was completely silent. Maria let go. She looked at her father's stunned and confused face. She turned around to see the room of giggling nobles. She ran out of the room.

Once mercifully away, she burst out laughing. She just had to do it. The village of Regovia was hers! She didn't have to deal with the "ladies" ever again! She would get to practice being Queen! And, apparently, her father thought this was all punishment. Maria danced in a little circle and skipped happily to her room.

The 22-year-old Maria sitting on a ship on it's way to France smiled and sincerely thanked her younger self. That day, the stubbornness and optimism of an 8-year-old girl planted the seed that grew into the Maria Therese of today.

She had moved to Regovia the very next day and spent the next few weeks making friends with all the local kids. The parents were more shy at first, but it's rather difficult to call the dirty-faced, bouncy little girl playing with your kids "your Highness." It's much, much easier to give her a stern lecture about rolling around in the mud. And since Nanny made sure Maria always brought a basket-full of good food with her when she went to the village, Maria found she could always stay for dinner as well. By the end of her first month at the village, she was spending only half her nights up at the manor and was not ruling the Regovia in any way, shape, or form.

Regovia really was a very self-sufficient village, and it was not til the middle of her second month that she first had to act the Seniora.

It transpired that two villagers had a conflict over a killed goat and wanted to bring it their fight to the manor … or rather, they would have done so, if there was a real Seniora. Instead, they went to Maria's Nanny, hoping to get some advice.

The loyal old woman, however, gave them a confusing and pompous, "I shall speak to her highness of your dilemma" before sending them on their way with a cold look. Privately, Nanny probably thought that she will just solve the problem herself and tell everyone the solution was Maria's. But, if only for form's sake, Nanny brought it up with her young charge as Maria was getting ready to sleep.

At first, Maria reacted precisely as Nanny had probably expected: she blinked for several seconds before even opening her mouth. "I don't know anything about goats …" But then she grinned suddenly. "We should make a council! Like His Majesty does for deciding his policies. And they can solve all the villagers' problems." Maria sniggered, "And I can sit there and look important and try to understand what's going on."

To-be-Queen Maria grinned as she stared into the waves. That had been her second intelligent decision. Nanny had agreed, and Regovia's Council of Elders was born. At first, Maria really did just sit there feeling stupid, occasionally contributed something silly, and then felt even more stupid. Eventually, though, she started making more sense. The next twelve years of her life were a happy blur. She sat at the council meetings, spend an occasional weekend at the castle with His Majesty the King (only to keep her "Princess" standing), and spent every other afternoon learning the fine arts (piano playing, French, etc.) with her Nanny. But the rest of her time passed in the village, where she was practically adopted by Annette's family. Along with five other little kids, she called Annette "Mother." The old woman thought it was her duty to impart to "her little Highness" everything she thought a woman, and especially a queen, should know.

"If you ever think you have it bad, think about what it's like for us." That was a favorite.

"You can't trust anyone!" It was also mother Annette who made little Maria notice that the "ladies in waiting" back at the palace spied on her and reported to His Majesty.

"Life isn't fair already, and then they just added the church and some nobles to make it really bad." Maria tried to argue with that one, but the old woman explained about taxes... and Maria really did know enough about math by then to understand. Then mother Annette took Maria to some of the other villages, less happy than Rigovia... that was when Maria first vowed that if she ever had to be Queen, she would FIX THAT.

"It's the woman's job to keep her husband from doing anything too stupid." Well, mother Annette kept hers out of drunken fights. Did that mean a Queen was to keep her out of silly wars?

"Defend yourself against everyone you're allowed to fight and play nice with the others!" Every time she said that, mother Annette would smirk and add in a whisper, "playing nice includes lying." Maria guessed "others" meant the King for her. Mother Annette also taught her some punches, to go with the first part of that advice.

Maria sighed. She would miss Mother Annette. She would miss her Nanny too. Maria had to remind herself again that it was she who insisted that Nanny stay with the village. It would have been too cruel to leave Regovia to the whims of some new Senior. Mother Annette... Nanny...

Oh! That's what she really needed. A teacher. Someone in France who could teach her how to be a Queen. Mother Annette, really, only taught her what was wrong with the world. She didn't say anything about how to fix the problems.

Marie grimaced ruefully. She might as well be honest with herself. Maria Theresa, age 22, really needed more from a teacher than advice on running a country. She needed help … becoming a better person. She heard what the courtiers said behind her back when she visited the palace. They still called her "excitable," of course. But they also she was impatient, rude, overly dramatic, and ruthless. That last one bothered her most of all, especially because some of the kids in the village said she was "mean." She never hurt anyone deliberately … unless something was really important and the other person wasn't a good person...

So what she really needed was a Knight in Shining Armor. Then she could ask him to teach her how to use his sword AND how to keep his armor that shiny white color...

The problem, Maria thought bitterly, was her inordinately short list of French acquaintances. Her husband-to-be the King was out of the question. He was one of the people she needed advice on dealing with, and, from the little she remembered of the proud yet melancholy boy, he hardly had the qualifications she needed. The Queen mother? She had ruled France for many years (or, if the rumors were true, Mazarin ruled in her name...), but, thinking of the Fronde, Maria doubted she and Anne of Austria would see eye to eye about what being a Queen meant. None of the other members of the royal family worked, all for similar reasons.

She didn't need a royal twat. She needed a French Hero... Maria's eyes suddenly glinted in the sun. How could she have forgotten?

**This Chapter was a lot of background on Maria, but in the next chapter, I promise, there will be some actual Musketeers! Also, there will be exactly one more flashback in the next Chapter, and then I promise not to do that to you again for quite a while. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Musketeers actually appear! Important note: the Musketeers in this are based on the later Dumas novels (20 Years Later and 10 Years Later). Most importantly, the Musketeers are older, and this, importantly, makes for a somewhat different Athos than the one you might be used to. Don't worry, though – he is still just as awesome!**

**The episode recounted in this chapter is from 20 Years Later. Anything the Musketeers do or say is respectively a paraphrase or a direct quote of the original Dumas. I've put asterisks next to actual quotes. Oh, and historical information not found in the Dumas is from wikipedia :)**

**The four Musketeers try (and fail) to rescue King Charles I from execution at the hand of Cromwell. Young Maria was there, as it happens, but how was Dumas to know about that?**

**I do apologize for the lack of next chapter. Some real life must, unfortunately, be attended to. In the dream world where I am in fact the Comte de La Fere, this life involved another mission and perhaps teaching Raoul horse back riding. **

**In any case, the next chapter will appear by the end of Thursday, December 20th. At any rate, I will get one more chapter out before the world ends! (Yes, I am joking. No, I am not insane.)**

How could she have forgotten? Maria did know French Heroes! At least, at age 11, she had thought they were heroes...

"Cromwell captured King Charles." His Majesty King Philip of Spain sounded somber, as befit the occasion, but Maria thought Father's tone carried a hint of disdain for the hapless British King. "They are planning on holding a trial."

The courtiers shifted awkwardly in their seats, unsure of what reaction His Majesty was expecting. Her Highness, meanwhile, stared at her Father the King in consternation. She remembered the oddly kind man called King Charles I. She especially remembered his young children, Charles and Henrietta. _What would happen to all of them? Because... well... aren't trials for criminals? And... and don't people get executed if they're found guilty? Shouldn't Father be doing something? If the English King is in trouble, shouldn't Spain be doing something? _That last sounded like more the sort of argument that might appeal to His Majesty, and Maria voiced it straight away, "Your Majesty..." Everyone turned to look. _Oh hell_, _did she just mess up again? But this really is more important than silly etiquette!_ "Your Majesty, if the English King is in danger, should not Spain come to his aid?"

One of the slicker courtiers gave Maria a patronizing smile. "That would be most unwise, your Highness. We have no need to meddle in English affairs, and such meddling may lead to a war..."

The King nodded. Maria felt sick. _Maybe "Spain" doesn't need to "meddle," but I care about Henrietta and Charles! _The way forward was obvious, and, though Maria was terrified of the Plan she was hatching, she knew she had to do this. Maria Theresa, Infanta of Spain, age 11, was going to England to rescue the English King.

Nanny was not going to like this plan. But Maria could hardly go alone, and she also needed Nanny's help to make sure no one in the castle noticed Maria was away from her village.

… …. ….

Both, surprisingly, proved easier than anticipated. Maria grinned to herself as she stepped victoriously on English soil. Nanny, of course, thought they had literally no chances of succeeding with the rescue mission, but the stanch old woman was as angry as Maria at the prospect of King Charles' death and had wanted to see the trial with her own eyes. And Maria's next visit to the King her Father was not for another two weeks, so she and Nanny decided there was little risk of their trip being discovered. His Majesty and his courtiers had not visited the village in months: Philip had practically given up on his daughter at this point. He had some hope for another heir for the throne now, in any case.

Maria was sitting quietly in the audiences on trial day. She had promised herself she would keep her calm. But as the king entered and the trial began, the young girl felt tears rise in her eyes. His Majesty King Charles the First looked truly noble. Oh, she knew Mother Annette hated the world 'noble,' that she said nobility didn't exist, but that simple words was the was the best description for Uncle Charles, standing pale yet defiant before his self-appointed judges.

Noble, yet so helpless. He could affect a calm look, could respond with dignified silence to their parody of a trial, but he could not change the fact that the executioner's axe was already prepared and prominently displayed at the hall entrance. And they, these officious lawmakers and heartless, disloyal soldiers mocked him, fully confident of their own impunity.

And Maria couldn't do anything. She even tried to shout out at one point, just to let Uncle know she was there, but Nanny restrained her. The Infanta of Spain could not be seen at the trial of the English King, no matter how much Maria wanted to give her Uncle a hug. The young girl tried to concentrate. She had to make sure to never forgot what these people did to her Uncle and their King.

The first speech of the prosecution was winding to a close. The summary was full of insults and disgusting descriptions of Uncle's execution that started Maria's tears anew and that the King just ignored. He turned even more pale, though, seeing not a single sympathetic face in this sea of enemies.

The prosecuting lawyer concluded his speech with a final cruel thrust: "the present accusation is preferred by us in the name of the English people."*

_How dare they?_ Maria nearly shouted in her anger. _How dare they imply that the entire country hated the King, their King who worked so hard to govern well? How dare they ... half the jury for this trial did not even show up!_

Maria wanted to jump up and yell at all of them till they stopped hurting their King. She wanted to run to Uncle and throw her arms around him, to show him he still had friends in this world. And she couldn't. She. Couldn't. Do. Anything.

"You lie!"* A voice from the back gallery rang out, interrupting Maria's self castigation. She turned to look. A French man had stood up clutching his clutching his sword hilt, with an anger in his face that matched Maria's. He hurled his next words into the room, as if challenging every participant of this cruel comedy: "Nine tenths of the English people are horrified at what you say!"*

Mayhem ensued. An officer ordered his musketeers to fire on the Frenchman's bench, and Maria closed her eyes as the muskets roared out. When she dared look again, the brave man was gone.

"He escaped." Nanny's voice cut short Maria's panicked cry. For a wild second Maria thought the older woman sounded almost amused.

"We must follow them." Maria stood up. The trial room was still in complete havoc, and no on would notice them leave.

"Didn't you want to see the end of the trial?"

_Now Nanny's voice was definitely amused_.

The older woman smiled at Maria, as if teasing. "If that man's bravely wasn't all used up just now, eh'll come to see the King leave this hall."

Maria's blinked. Twice. "Wouldn't that be dangerous?" She remembered another one of Mother Annette's maxims: "If you get away with a stupid thing once, you don't go doing it again!" _Then again, it doesn't seem like the man knows much about mother Annette's wisdom..._ "Maybe **he** would come."

Nanny only smiled at Maria's emphasis and tugged the girl back onto her bench. The minutes of the trial stretched, the Infanta of Spain fidgeted, but at last the torture was over. And as Maria hurriedly let the hall, her eyes widened in happy surprise. _Nanny had been right._

Maria found a place in the crowd, watching the unfolding events and especially the brave Frenchman in fascination. Some old soldier wanted to pay his last tribute to Uncle and spoke a soft "respect to fallen Majesty" to Uncle as he passed. The crowd nearly killed him. But her Frenchman slipped ten guineas into the soldier's pocket, as the poor man fainted from the mob's blows. Maria blinked again, confused. _Why didn't he even write a note to identify himself? It's a lot more fun to do good things if people could thank you later and you can wave it off! It helps makes friends too..._

Nanny's indignant gasp pulled Maria from her reverie. Someone had spit in the King's face. _No. How dare he?_ Maria's eyes sought the Frenchman. Had he seen? Yes! He and three friends were quietly leaving the crowd to follow the offender, who was departing with a couple of companions.

Moving even more stealthily, Nanny and Maria followed the two groups of men. At length, the spitter and his friends noticed the Frenchmen and turned around, insults ready on their tongues. Nanny didn't let her charge see the confrontation, though. Or hear it. No matter how much Maria squirmed, she couldn't get away from the hands covering her eyes and ears. Finally, Nanny let her go, but, by then, the spitter and his friends had disappeared. Maria wondered if they'd run away. The cloaks of the Frenchmen were just roundign a corner.

As Nanny and and a very angry Maria set out to follow, the old woman gave Maria a proud, wry smile. "They did the right thing, but you aren't ready to see such things yet." Maria wanted to argue, but she couldn't whisper as quietly as Nanny. Meanwhile, the Frenchmen reached a tavern, and the two women followed them in, sitting as close to the four men as they could.

What Maria heard next made her forget all about Nanny's interference. The brave Frenchman and his friends were going to try to rescue Uncle!

She nearly laughed for joy as she listened. The would try to get all the executioners out of town, so they had an extra night. One of the brave man's friends said he'd do that. No, not friend. Son. Her Frenchman called that man his son, and the other two called his D'Artagnan. She eventually got a name for her Frenchman too. Athos. It was a bit strange for a name... usually only people from her village had simple names, and this man was clearly a noble. His other two companions had strange names too, Porthos and Aramis. Maybe the names were fake? But fake names or not, they were here to fulfill the insane mission she had taken up – rescuing King Charles from the revolutionary mob. She had to admit the four Frenchmen had a much better chance than she did. Looking at their determined faces, especially at that of Athos, she amended her thought: _They won't just try to rescue Uncle. They will succeed_.No matter what mother Annette might say about bravery never leading to ought but trouble. But should Maria offer these men her help?

As it happened, she never had a chance to. She had barely noticed when some man walked in and gave Nanny a letter; she had been too absorbed in the Frenchmen's conversation. But now Nanny sought her attention, and Nanny wasn't an easy woman to ignore.

"A message from Spain came through." Nanny's whisper was quiet, but urgent. "The King is planning to visit our village in less than a week. We have to be there! The man who brought the letter said we could use his ship, and that sails in an hour. We're going. Now." Nanny practically dragged Maria out of the tavern.

When Maria returned to Spain two days later, she couldn't talk to anyone about Athos and his friends. Not even Mother Annette was to know the Infanta had been to England. The young girl talked Nanny's ear off about them, but Nanny's teasing – the woman seemed to think Maria had feelings for Athos – eventually made the little girl stop ranting about her Frenchmen. She didn't know if what Nanny said was true or not, either. It was weird to be that confused about her own emotions, but she did know she didn't want to be teased about it. So she talked about her French heroes to herself, not confiding in anyone. Even finding out that they had failed, that Uncle was dad, did nothing to lessen her admiration. She was very sad about Uncle, she cried herself to bed every night for two weeks, but she also knew that Athos and his friends had done all they could. And she continued thinking of them with respect that bordered on hero worship.

Maria smiled softly. Weeks had passed. And then months. Eventually, the memories of the four friends dulled. She heard Athos' thundering voice less often in her mind; she stopped seeing their determined faces when she closed her eyes. Now, ten years later, she would have thought her Memory had long since erased the images of the four men. Except now it found them again, almost as soon as she started racking her brain for French Heroes.

Maria imagined her Memory as a waiter with a snarky voice: "Did someone order a Knight In Shining Armour? Four brave Knights coming right up!"

_Great! So now I just need to find four men, three of whom likely have fake names. I have last seen them ten years ago, and all I know is that they are probably somewhere in France._

Her mouth stretched into a rueful grin. _It seems that other parts of me have a snarky voice too – not just my memory. Also, finding them is going to be so hard._

But despite all the obvious problems, the young princess was elated. She had a Plan. She would find he four heroes, especially Athos, and ask them to teach her. It might be hard (she refused to admit it might be impossible), but she would do it eventually.

Meanwhile, she had to plan her life until she found her teachers. The future Queen of France felt her thoughts accelerate. _I'll have to talk with ... and then … like in Regovia..._

The rest of the journey to France passed in scheming, and, by the time the ship stopped moving, Maria knew what her next steps were and was ready to act her part.

The wedding was, well, uneventful. Maria was working so hard to hide her revulsion of both Louis and the very way her marriage was orchestrated that she couldn't even remember the names of those introduced to her. But she toed the line and played her part, with all the proper etiquette. And didn't faint when she had to kiss the King. This, Maria thought, was a small victory. The only moment Maria vividly remembered was her first sight of the Captain of the Musketeers. He looked strangely familiar. Unfortunately, the King did not bother to introduce him, but she made a mental note to find out who that soldier was.

She did panic for one moment when it seemed that the marriage would have to be consummated publicly. It would put a hitch in her plans, for one. She would have also possibly died of humiliation and disgust. As it turned out, however, the Queen Mother had arranged for a private chamber for the new couple. So, now newly wed and with a changed name, Marie Therese found herself confronting her husband, his Majesty King Louis XIV of France.

Marie took a deep breath and prepared to drop the bomb on her unsuspecting husband. _As delicately as possible,_ she reminded herself.

**Please review :D I know this chapter was somewhat less funny and more emotional than the other two. Don't worry – that won't be a permanent fixture. We'll keep doing emotion (fluff this way comes!), but I will continue to try to sound amusing. This was The Introduction of Athos, though, and I couldn't resist!**

**Also, remember how mother Annette didn't approve of the word 'noble?' Here's what she actually said about it: "Some people say nobility is dead, but they're all liars or silly. It was never born. Just plain doesn't exist!"**


	4. The Consummation

**As promised, you can read this chapter before the world ends tomorrow!**

**Public service announcement: after this chapter, I will be moving this fic into the Alexander Dumas fandom, and changing the character labels to Athos and OC. As I've said before, I'm a newbie to fanfic writing and had not quite realized the appropriate labels initially. I do apologize for any confusion :)**

**Also, ahem, Mother Annette is a 17th century peasant. She doesn't think very highly of anybody. My views and her views often differ.**

Marie faced Louis and absorbed the look of surprised disgust on his face. She _wanted_ that look there, she had worked _really hard_ to make herself seem as undesirable as possible, but it still hurt as her new husband stared haughtily at her changed face.

Marie Therese was, after all, quite good at making herself ugly. _It's safer to be ugly. You keep up those pretty looks, and you'll find yourself raped or dead or both._ Mother Annette was never one for mincing words, and she had insisted on teaching little Marie all manner of tricks for changing her appearance. Torn out eyelashes, bits of gunk tucked in front of her gums, and a few really smelly and icky face creams were the chief ingredients in Marie's 'safety make up' drawer, and, on her wedding night, she had used them all.

Standing before her, the King of France took a deep breath, as if preparing for something deeply unpleasant.

And at the same time, Marie spoke, "We need not do this, your Majesty."

The man froze in the middle of his first step toward her, and the young Queen had to stifle a sigh of relief. From the little information she had gathered about her new husband during her journey, it had become apparent that logic alone would not get her far. She needed some combination of ugliness and flattery. He had already seen the ugliness. Now it was time to flatter.

"My Lord, I..." _Be Timid and admiring. Timid and Admiring. I need to look timid and admiring to this arrogant idiot _"I... I am not a fit wife for your Majesty."

Her husband **actually nodded in agreement**, and Maria snorted angrily, unable to help herself. Louis raised a lofty eyebrow.

Maria fought for self control. _Come on, sink into a curtsy, pretend that snort was a sad sigh... You need this to work, damn it_. _Another voice, of common sense, or maybe just pride, argued back. But how will I ever fulfill my role, help this man govern France, if I don't stand up for myself? That argument really wasn't going to fly with voice one though. Oh stop it. We planned this out. You'll gain his respect later. Now we just need to set up the husband-wife relations right. And prideful common sense again:_ _Isn't respect part … oh shit._

The young Queen had finally spotted the Louis' angry glare. His Majesty the King of France had been watching her face go through a whole dance of expressions for a minute at this point; he wanted an explanation. And he wanted it now.

It was probably the anger on his face that did it. Maria straightened up abruptly. "Your Majesty. I am not a beautiful bride, and, as I said, we need not do this. More than that, you are welcome to have other lovers. You are a young king, surrounded by beautiful women, and you are welcome to take any of them to your bed. I promise not to get angry or even try to uncover your secrets, if you choose to be secretive."

Louis' face was a work of art in itself. Maria could sort of see the reasons. His wife had just declared, on their wedding night and in an angry tone, that he was allowed to have lovers. But she wasn't done.

"What I ask in return..."

"Madam," Louis cut in, attempting to regain some measure of control. Maria stopped him by the simple expedient of raising her voice.

"What I ask in return is that you grant me the same freedom." The young Queen made a face. "I know it seems nigh impossible to you, but if I do manage to find a lover, I ask that you grant me the same freedom and privacy I am going to grant you. Oh, and let's not consummate the marriage until we absolutely have to give France a prince, deal?"

"Who **are** you?!" Apparently the King had finally come to a conclusion from her schpeel. Specifically, he decided she was an impostor. Her using village-talk like 'deal' probably hadn't helped...

Louis reached for a bell and opened his mouth to call the guards, but he was unable to complete either action. A hand covered his mouth and another intercepted his reach for the bell.

A polite, apparently entirely calm voice whispered in the King's ear, "Your Majesty need not be alarmed. I am in truth Marie Therese, you wife, and by birth an Infanta of Spain." She released him and took a step back, sinking into a very deep and very proper curtsy.

Louis stared in raw shock.

Maria began again. "Your Majesty..." _Carefully now. Maybe you haven't ruined everything quite yet. But you are about an angry word away from the Bastille. _"You can always call the guards, but, I beg you, hear me out first. It will always be in your power to put me in the Bastille, but there is truly no need. I wish to be a friend to my King and to serve France.

"A friend and servant who dares lay hands upon her King?" Louis face was regaining some color, and the arrogant note was back in his voice.

_At least he's out of shock. That's good. Maybe. Also, 'lay hands,' seriously? Does this man even know what a consummation of marriage is supposed to entail?_

"I beg you to forgive my desperation, your Majesty" _Don't let him dwell in the insult. Move on._ "I wish to serve France, my King, and I will be more useful to you outside a prison." She allowed herself a smile. "A woman, after all, can be a powerful weapon."

A bit of thought seemed to be weaving itself into the King's anger. He wanted power, after all. Colbert was to be his head, D'Artagnan his arm, and this woman...

Maria seemed to read his thoughts. "They say that when Cardinal Richelieu wanted his enemy, the Duke Buckingham, dead, he did not send an army. He sent a woman."

Louis' eyes narrowed. He too had heard rumors of how Buckingham died. But if he wanted this woman to serve him, he needed her to be afraid. And to create fear, he must create suspense. After all, Louis had learned the art of Kingship from Mazarin and Anne of Austria.

"Madam," The King's voice was cold. "This day has given me much to consider. I shall forget neither your offer nor your insult." And, without waiting for a reply, the King turned and left.

**Next chapter shall feature D'Artagnan!**


End file.
